


A Pearl

by awildesunflower



Series: monchevy drabbles [5]
Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Crying, Fluff, Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, Nude Photos, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rimming, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, Smut, War violence, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-07-12 01:39:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15984863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awildesunflower/pseuds/awildesunflower
Summary: Philippe Bourbon entered the war to prove to his family that he was capable of being more than just the little brother on the side.Chevalier Lorraine was drafted into the war against his will.The two men, on very different paths, find something in the midst of the perils of war. Something neither of them knows what to do with





	1. I Fell In Love With A War

**Author's Note:**

> This began as a drabble but it has the potential to be longer and I have big ideas.  
> (Title and chapter titles inspired by A Pearl by Mitski)

If there was anything Chevalier Lorraine wasn’t fit for it was war, but he didn’t exactly have a choice. France was in absolute peril. His father couldn’t serve and his brother was killed just a mere month after he was drafted. Not even a week after burying his brother, it was his turn to be drafted. Chevalier so desperately wanted to escape the war, but he would be arrested if caught. Bootcamp nearly killed him and even though he was clearly incapable of being a successful soldier, he was sent off to defend Paris anyways. 

Philippe Bourbon didn’t have to fight. His brother didn’t. He could’ve run off and hidden away with the rest of the Bourbons, but he was eager to defend his country. He needed to prove himself to everyone that he was strong and capable. He needed to prove to himself that he was useful. He quickly moved up in the ranks to a lieutenant. He told himself it had nothing to do with his last name, but of course, that was part of it. But his men loved him. He treated them with reverence. They were his brothers in arms. Lineage didn’t matter on the battlefield; they died together. 

The spring of 1940 was a trying time. The Germans were quickly advancing on Paris; half of Philippe’s men were dead; Chevalier was utterly terrified. Lieutenant Bourbon wasn’t cutting him any slack. All of the remaining men were expected to fight their damnedest until they died—for France. And Chevalier tried. He tried to live up to his name: a knight, a chivalrous man. He was neither of those. He was a coward, not a soldier.

“Lorraine! I told you to restock the ammunition barrels yesterday,” Lieutenant Bourbon shouted. An insubordinate soldier was the last thing he need when the country was on the verge of invasion. 

Chevalier jumped to attention and stammered, “We’re out, monsieur. We didn’t get a shipment in.”

Philippe cursed and threw his clipboard down. “Fucking hell. My men are defending Paris and we can’t even get supplies.”

Chevalier looked down. “All the supplies are being sent further north. The Germans are getting close to breaking the lines,” he repeated what he had heard from other officers.

“I know that,” Philippe seethed. “But we’re next. As soon as that line breaks, Paris will be next.”

Chevalier went quiet and stood down as his lieutenant stomped off to make arrangements. The subordinate went back to rationing out the supplies amongst the men. Soon they would be starving. The people of Paris had already given them everything they had; there was nothing left. Some officers had taken to breaking into homes and tenements to scavenge for supplies, but Chevalier couldn’t bring himself to do that. He barely had any fight left in him, so there was no point in him trying to survive. He didn’t want to anymore. 

Lieutenant Bourbon was stressed—and that was an understatement. He had thousands of men under his command and he knew they were going to die. By the end of May, the Germans had broken through the northern defense and they were quickly advancing. The Blitzkrieg took out entire cities. Men died by the thousands, hundreds of thousands. It plagued Philippe every single time he closed his eyes. He always saw an image of that blonde bloodied and reaching out for him. Philippe didn’t know why he thought of Lorraine. Perhaps it was the glimpse of hope in those sad eyes or the way his body sagged when he came back from the fight. He knew Lorraine wouldn’t make it. He was just another kid drafted, another life wasted. Philippe knew it would be hard to see that one go. 

“Lorraine. You’re going with Louvois’s group to the Louvre. Your job is to hide the most valuable works to ensure they aren’t damaged,” Lieutenant Bourbon ordered. This would keep Lorraine off the front line. Maybe he’d last a little longer. 

Chevalier followed his orders completely, even though he absolutely despised Louvois. Louvois was older than most of the young men there, so he thought that meant he could push them all around. He picked on them and shoved them around. It drove Chevalier absolutely insane. He wanted nothing more than to strangle that bastard, but luckily Colbert was there to keep him in check. If Chevalier even used the wrong tone with Louvois, he’d be unfairly reprimanded. So he was on his best behavior. If it weren’t for the war looming over, he really would have enjoyed himself. He had an affinity for art. He initially wanted to study art history in school but...well he didn’t make it that far. Chevalier ran his fingers along the intricate gold frames that held the stretched canvases that had been so meticulously painted with such passion. That’s what he loved about art. But he didn’t have time to dote over it now. They were busy hiding away the paintings so they’d be protected from bombings and raids. 

On their way back to the barracks, Chevalier strayed off to rummage for food and medical supplies, grabbing a few books as well to keep him busy. 

“Lieutenant...” Lorraine murmured as he entered his office, knocking softly on the open door. 

The lieutenant dropped his folder and looked up to the officer with a sigh, “What is it, Lorraine?”

“I, uh, I managed to get some more supplies. Nothing much. Just to restock the medkits and more food for rations,” he said meekly gesturing to the bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Oh, well that is very much appreciated, Lorraine,” he smiled curtly. “If you could go ahead and distribute those, that would be great.” He went back to working on the paperwork. Who knew the military was so much filing?

Chevalier cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. “Monsieur, why are you keeping me from the fight?” He muttered. 

Philippe glanced back up. The officer calling him _Monsieur_ really shouldn’t have stirred a feeling in his stomach. “What are you talking about, officer?” He said firmly. 

Chevalier’s mouth went dry like cotton was stuffed in his cheeks. “N-nothing, Monsieur—“

“Don’t call me that,” Philippe snapped. 

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” Chevalier nodded. He couldn’t help but be intrigued by the way his superior’s cheeks reddened or how his eyes flickered to his lips when he swiped his tongue out. “It’s just that you haven’t put me on the line in weeks. I want to be useful.”

“You are useful. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you aren’t exactly the fighting type. I saw you through boot camp. Barely made it,” Philippe huffed and shook his head. 

Chevalier’s face flushed furiously. “I’m not weak, _Monsieur_ ,” he insisted. “If I’m going to die, I might as well die valiantly.”

“How poetic of you,” he sneered. “Now would you please let me be. I’ll think about granting your death wish.”

Chevalier stomped out and slammed the door behind him. He was sick of being treated like a weakling. His entire life he was the subordinate. And of course, Philippe Bourbon had to come along and be exactly the same as everyone else. He should’ve expected that. He was a Bourbon: he had everything handed to him. He had his title handed to him. And he surely wasn’t going to die during this war. He’d escape scot-free and praised as a hero; meanwhile, thousands of men laid dead for their country. 

In short, Chevalier was bitter. 

Philippe made sure Chevalier never saw the battlefield. He had him doing all the busy work. He spent most of his time with the nurses or Louvois. Philippe made his time even more miserable. He didn’t think it was possible to be so bored in the midst of war. So naturally, he stormed back into the Lieutenant’s office. 

“What do you have against me!” Chevalier yelled, making his superior snap his head up. 

Philippe screwed his brows together and stood up from his desk. “You need to rethink that tone of yours, lest you forgot that I am your lieutenant, officer Lorraine!” He spoke lowly. 

“All I want is to fight, but you keep shoving me in the med tent or forcing me to go on pointless missions with that pig! Let me fight, Lieutenant! Let me prove myself!” Chevalier argued, his cheeks pink from yelling. 

Philippe moved around his desk to face the officer. Philippe was a good bit taller than him and when he squared his shoulders he was even more brooding. “Do you really want to be on the field? Do you want to see your men die next to you while they cry for their mothers? Do you want to lay awake at night wondering what you could’ve done differently so that a sixteen-year-old kid didn’t die in your arms?” 

Chevalier swallowed and felt cornered against the wall. “No...I-that's not what I meant,” he stammered and looked down. 

“Look at me, Lorraine,” Philippe ordered. “If I’m going to send you out there, you are going to look me in the eyes.”

Chevalier looked back up to him. All of that confidence and rage withered away. “I’m going to die either way. I’d rather I died for our country. I just want to prove myself,” he murmured. 

Philippe sighed and backed away. “I understand, Chevalier. That’s why I’m here too.”

Chevalier absolutely shouldn’t have felt like _that_ when the lieutenant said his name, but his stomach was in knots. “Please, monsieur,” he pleaded tiredly. “Let me do this.”

“Fine,” he acquiesced. “But only because we need all the men we can.”

“Thank you, Monsieur. I won’t let you down,” Chevalier assured before leaving his office, gently closing the door behind him. 

The fight was pushed right to the outskirts of Paris. The Germans were faster and far stronger than expected. The French couldn’t compete with the bombings of the Blitzkrieg. Paris would fall; it was only a matter of days. Chevalier fought valiantly next to Lieutenant Bourbon. He found himself studying the way his superior ran and barked orders. He watched him kill a man right in front of him. His heart raced and he felt his chest constricting at the sight, but he couldn’t panic now. He focused on the fight, but he didn’t process anything. He pulled the trigger over and over until his fingers cramped. The Lieutenant called for a retreat and Chevalier took off running for cover. Suddenly, he was on the ground and when he tried to scramble up his left leg gave out.

“Help! Help, someone! I’ve been shot!” Chevalier screamed once he realized what happened. Red, hot pain shot through his leg; it was almost numbing. Tears tracked down his muddied cheeks as sobs wracked through him.

Philippe’s nightmare came true at that moment. He looked to the source of the screams and saw it: that blonde desperately reaching out for him as blood soaked the leg of his trousers. He rushed over to him, cursing to himself. He quickly assessed the injury—right below the knee. He tore his jacket off and tied it tightly around the officer’s leg before hoisting him up over his shoulder. “Stay with me, Chevalier!” he grunted as he began running.

“It hurts,” Chevalier sobbed. “Make it stop!” His vision spotted from the intense amount of pain. He gasped for air but came up with nothing.

“Breathe, Chevalier. We’re almost there, but I need you to stay calm,” Philippe ordered. The med tent was gone; he was just looking for someplace where they could hide away. He was left with no other choice than to drag him in down into the sewers. The smell was nauseating, but it was good cover. He laid the whimpering officer on the concrete and wiped a soothing hand across his clammy forehead. “Look at me. You’re safe right now. I’m gonna take care of you,” he murmured. He took the pack off his back and pulled on the small med kit. He gently pulled Chevalier’s pants off and inspected the wound. 

Chevalier whimpered and arched his back when Philippe began working on the wound. He reached down and gripped his shoulder tightly. “It hurts, lieutenant,” he cried. 

Philippe handed him a handkerchief and instructed, “Bite down on this.” He dug into the wound and pried the bullet out, eliciting a sharp cry from the other. “That was the worst of it. Just gotta clean it out and sew it up. You’ll be okay,” he assured. 

Chevalier removed the cloth from his mouth and dabbed the sweat from his face. “Thank you,” he murmured weakly. He writhed slightly but tried to suppress further cries. Once Philippe was done, he finally relaxed as best as he could. The ground above them shook as bombs landed, making Chevalier jump.

“Hey, relax. We’re safe down here,” Philippe cooed as Chevalier tucked against his side. He hesitantly put an arm around him to soothe him.

“This is all very Victor Hugo.” he huffed out a chuckle. “I brought a copy of _Les Miserables;_ almost done with it.” He was still shaking against Philippe’s side. 

“You’re gonna finish it, Chevalier. You’ll make it: I swear,” he assured, feeling some strange need to comfort him. Chevalier made him really _feel_ for the first time since the war started. “After all of this is over, you and I oughta go out for drinks,” he offered a small smile.

Chevalier smiled back. “That’d be nice. Something to look forward to after all of this,” he sighed, waving his hands about. They looked at each other for a moment in the silence and the air between them held something _more_.

But then the ground above them shook again, but not with bombs; with footsteps. Philippe held up a finger to silence Chevalier as he moved to look out of the grate. He froze and his heart stopped at the sight. Turning back to Chevalier, he murmured, “They’re taking Paris.”


	2. Nobody Told Me It Ended

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/rIAQWr34De0  
> Link to the song Chevalier sings to Philippe.

“They’re fucking taking Paris!” Philippe seethed. He scrambled to grab his gun before Chevalier stopped him. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Chevalier gritted his teeth as he grabbed Philippe’s wrist. “What are you going to do? Go out there and singlehandedly stop the Nazis? Get yourself killed?” He gave him a hard look despite the pain that still lined his features. 

Philippe looked at him, lips pressed into a hard line and cheeks red. “They’re are taking the capital. My home. _Our_ home,” he attempted to rally his spirit.

“And there are hundreds of thousands of them and two of us and I can’t even walk. Now don’t be stupid and—“

“Do you forget who I am, Lorraine?” Philippe snapped.

“Right now you are a soldier helping your fellow man in the sewers of Paris. If you go out there, your life would have been wasted,” Chevalier said sternly.

Philippe just looked at him, lips parted in an effort to speak but he had nothing to say. He looked back out of the grate. Chevalier shuffled to his side and they silently watched as bloodied boots of the Nazis marched by to claim the city. There was nothing either of them could do as the lines of men kept coming. As the last man walked by, Philippe turned to Chevalier with a vacant look in his eyes as a single tear rolled down his cheek. “It’s gone.”

They crawled out of the grate once there was no sign of life. Chevalier wrapped his arm around Philippe and kept as much pressure as he could off of his leg as they made it to the base. That’s when they got were informed that the French had officially surrendered to the Germans. Northern France belonged to the Nazis.

~-~-~-~

Vichy France was everything Parisians despised. The government was scared. Gone were the days of homosexuality and sexual liberation. The war dragged on. The French forces were dying out.

Chevalier Lorraine had healed after his initial injury and was still under the command of Lieutenant Bourbon. Ever since Philippe had helped Chevalier, there had been some unspoken tension between them. All of their interactions consisted of wandering eyes, flushed cheeks, and words held on the tips of tongues. But there was no time to delve deeper into these feelings. 

The loyal Frenchmen of the military were under the impression that they still held sovereignty and Germany was still a firm enemy. But all too quickly, things changed.

“Chevalier, come here. You need to read this,” Philippe muttered as he stared wide-eyed at the paper in front of him. 

Chevalier set down his copy of _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ with a sigh and went over to sit next to Philippe. “What it is?” he asked, leaning over to read the article. His brows shot up to his hairline. “What the fuck!”

“Quiet,” Philippe hissed. “The armistice has been disbanded. All of France is occupied now. There’s no more Vichy.” 

“I told you about the Resistance movements. I told you it was happening, but you didn’t listen to me,” Chevalier murmured, trying not to get upset. Truthfully, he was scared.

Philippe looked at him square in the eyes. “Then let’s go. We can join the Maquis. Fabien has been writing to me. They’re finding a passageway to London,” he rambled hopefully.

Chevalier just looked to him sadly. “Why are you still here, Philippe? You can leave. Go home, join the rest of your family,” he spoke softly.

“I’m not leaving. I’ve told you that. If I go back before this is over, then that’ll just prove them right,” he spat, sharply turning his head as not to direct his rage at his officer.

“It’s already over. Can’t you see?” Chevalier sighed and went back to his book.

“You read _Les Miserables_. You finished reading it. Did you learn nothing of revolution? Of the history of this country?” 

“I learned of despair. And love and loss—“

“And war and moral and valor. There is always something worth fighting for,” Philippe persisted. “Look, the Germans invaded the USSR and the Soviets are holding them back. There is still a chance. Don’t lose hope yet.”

“I’ve lost everything, Philippe. I have nothing,” Chevalier spoke barely above a whisper as he pulled the crinkled letter from his pocket to throw it at Philippe.

Philippe screwed his brows together as he deciphered the faded ink. “Oh…I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Chevalier,” he murmured but wasn’t quite sure how to comfort him after learning his father had died.

“It doesn’t matter. It just means I don’t have to fight anymore. There’s nothing to go home to now. Mother died when I was—what, nine—brother just two years ago, and now my father. He was an asshole, but he was the only family I had left,” Chevalier sniffled, burying his face in the book so Philippe couldn’t see his tears.

“You still have drinks to look forward to,” Philippe added.

“What are you talking about?”

“When we were in the sewers, I told you that after all of this is over you and I are going to go out for drinks. I meant that.”

Chevalier looked over to him, chewing his lip. “Promise?” He stretched out his pinky.

“Promise.” Philippe locked his pinky with his and smiled.

~-~-~-~-

A month later, they made their escape. In the dead of night, they snuck out of the barracks with the few belongings they had left stuffed in the packs on their backs. Fabien instructed them to meet with an older gentleman names Jaques on the outskirts of Vichy. They found the man waiting for them in 1933, black Delahaye. Exiting the city would prove to be the most dangerous part. Chevalier and Philippe were stuffed in the trunk and covered in a canvas and boxes of produce and other various supplies stacked on top of them. Philippe’s back was pressed against Chevalier’s chest as they curled up in the small space. It took everything Philippe had not to panic in the small, dark space. Chevalier must’ve sensed his anxiety as he draped an arm over his torso.

“I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s better than staying there. Try to sleep, we have quite the drive ahead of us,” Chevalier whispered. They were so close that he could feel his breath tickle the back of his neck. 

Philippe squeezed his eyes shut and focused on taking deep breathes. In the year he and Chevalier had gotten to know each other, he had never broken in front of him. But now he was near the point of tears tucked against the other man's chest. The only thing grounding him was Chevalier’s arm around him and his lips barely ghosting against the back of his neck. Philippe was still shaking. He gripped Chevalier’s hand to keep him from spiraling. 

“When I was little, I had a hard time falling asleep. My mum would lay would me and sing until I drifted off. Parlez-Moi d’Amour was her favorite,” Chevalier murmured. After a beat of silence, he began softly singing:

_Parlez-moi d'amour,_

_Redites-moi des choses tendres,_

_Votre beau discours,_

_Mon coeur n'est pas las de l'entendre._

_Pourvu que toujours_

_Vous répétiez ces mots suprêmes :_

_Je vous aime._

_Vous savez bien_

_Que dans le fond, je n'en crois rien,_

_Mais cependant je veux encore,_

_Ecouter ce mot que j'adore,_

_Votre voix aux sons caressants,_

_Qui le murmure en frémissant,_

_Me berce de sa belle histoire,_

_Et malgré moi je veux y croire._

_Refrain_

_Il est si doux_

_Mon cher trésor, d'être un peu fou,_

_La vie est parfois trop amère,_

_Si l'on ne croit pas aux chimères,_

_Le chagrin est vite apaisé,_

_Et le console d'un baiser,_

_Du coeur on guérit la blessure,_

_Par un serment qui le rassure._

Philippe found himself dozing off to Chevalier’s soft voice, a bit gravely from the lack of hydration. He was soothed by the lyrics and he thought maybe in a different situation, a different time, a different life...he could speak to him of love. 

The trunk popped open and the pressure of boxes was slowly lifted off of them and the canvas was pulled back. The blinding sunlight made the two sleeping men groan. 

“Out you go boys. This is the stop,” Jacques grunted. “There’s a lot of boys tucked away in those cabins down the way.”

Philippe shuffled out of the trunk and grabbed Chevalier’s hand to help him out. Their joints popped as they stretched and inhaled the fresh air. “Thank you so much, sir,” Philippe nodded as he firmly shook his hand. No one would ever guess this was the same man whimpering against another man in the trunk of a car. They hoisted their bags on their shoulders and began walking down the path to the cabins. The French countryside was beautiful, mostly untouched by the war. They could finally breathe without clouds of smoke or the stench of death in the air. Chevalier looked over to Philippe, half expecting him to say something. 

“Were you okay earlier? I was—“

“Don’t talk about it,” Philippe stopped him. “Please.” The look he gave Chevalier was pitiful. A look he never expected to see on the man. His lieutenant. 

They were silent the rest of the walk. They came upon the large cabin that was haphazardly put together. Before they could even knock, the door was thrown open. 

“Philippe! You made it!” Fabien cheered, putting his arm around him and pulling him inside. Chevalier awkwardly stalked behind Philippe as he looked around the interior full of young men. Fabien rattles their names off: Thomas, Raphael, Victor, and Lucien. The latter was aBritish airman that had been shot down by German forces. Philippe and Chevalier were welcomed openly and shown where they could stay. With now six men in the cabin, it would be a tight fit. Chevalier would be rooming with Lucien and Philippe with Fabien The officer was a bit upset by this but he didn’t argue. He had hoped this would be an opportunity to get to really know Philippe. Apparently not. Besides, he was already to busy chatting up Fabien. Chevalier hated the jealously that bloomed in his stomach. It just reminded him how hopeless his little crush on the lieutenant had been. 

Later that night, neither of the two could sleep. Philippe still couldn’t close his eyes without being plagued by visions of carnage. Chevalier just was restless and he finished reading _The Picture of Dorian Gray_. So he found himself wandering down to the kitchen for a drink. He halted on the stairs when he heard Philippe and Fabien talking. 

“So who’s that kid you brought with you?” Fabien asked. Chevalier clenched his jaw at the way he was referred to. 

“Lorraine? He was one of my officers. He’s a nice kid. Not cut out for the war though. I feel bad for him,” Philippe sighed. 

Fabien huffed a laugh. “Surprised he has made it this far. You can always leave him here. We’ll put him to work.”

Chevalier didn’t stay to hear Philippe’s response. He padded back up the stairs and went to his room with tears in his eyes. That solidified it. Philippe saw him just like everyone else did. A kid. A coward. When he burst back into the room, he didn’t expect his roommate to be sitting up with worry etched in the lines of his face. 

“Y’alright there, Chevy?” Lucien asked in that thick cockney accent of his. 

Chevalier sniffled and squared his shoulders so he wouldn’t look like such a _kid_. “Yeah. Fine,” he muttered. He went back to sit at the edge of his bed, digging through his bag for the other book he brought with him. 

“Noticed you were reading Wilde. Y’know he was queer?” Lucien commented with an underlying tone that he couldn’t quite pick out just then. 

Chevalier paused for a moment. “Yeah...the book was heavily censored once he published it.” 

Lucien got up and went to the table near Chevalier’s bed to pick up the book. He flipped it open and delicately ran his fingers along the words. “You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit,” Lucien quoted. 

Chevalier murmured without looking up, “The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.”

Suddenly Lucien was much closer and whispering in his ear, “So yield.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics to the song in English:   
> Tell me about love   
> Tell me about tender things   
> Your beautiful speech   
> My heart is not tired of hearing it   
> As long as   
> you always Repeat these words supreme   
> I love you 
> 
> You know well   
> That in the bottom I do not believe anything   
> But nevertheless I still want to   
> Listen to this word that I adore   
> Your voice with the caressing sounds   
> Whispering her murmuring   
> Me cradles her beautiful story   
> And despite myself I want to believe in it 
> 
> Tell me about love   
> Redeem me soft things   
> Your beautiful speech   
> My heart n ' is not tired of hearing it   
> As long as   
> you always repeat these words supreme  
> I love you 
> 
> Tell me about love   
> Tell me about tender things   
> Your beautiful speech   
> My heart is not tired of hearing it   
> As long as   
> you always Repeat these words supreme   
> I love you 
> 
> Tell me about love   
> Tell me about things tenders   
> Your beautiful speech   
> My heart is not tired of hearing it   
> As long as   
> you always Repeat these words supreme   
> I love you 
> 
> It is so sweet   
> My dear treasure to be a little crazy   
> Life is sometimes too bitter   
> If we do not believe in chimeres   
> The grief is quickly soothed   
> And consoles with a kiss   
> From the heart we heal the wound  
> By an oath that reassures her 
> 
> Tell me about love   
> Tell me about tender things   
> Your beautiful speech   
> My heart is not tired of hearing it   
> As long as   
> you always Repeat these words supreme   
> I love you


	3. You're Growing Tired of Me

Chevalier turned to look at Lucien, their lips only a hairsbreadth apart. His eyes flickered from the piercing grey eyes in front of him down to his plush lips and he deduced there was no other option than to kiss him. Chevalier was surprised by the intensity Lucien put into the kiss as now both of them were vying for dominance. 

“You’re a big boy, aren’t you? Not the kid Bourbon says you are,” Lucien snickered, nipping at his lip. 

Chevalier smirked against his lips before knocking Lucien’s back flat on the bed. “I’ll admit, a year ago, I was pretty pathetic,” he grunted, pinning Lucien’s wrists above his head as he struggled. “But now, I’m _hard_.” 

“That you are,” Lucien growled, bucking his hips up to knock Chevalier off. 

The two of them tumbled back and forth until Chevalier had his knee pinned between Lucien’s leg and wrists tightly grasped above his head. He gripped his jaw and kissed him roughly until Lucien’s muscles relaxed. “Do you yield?” he gibed. With a curt nod from Lucien, Chevalier began pulling their boxers off. He pulled Lucien’s hips up and placed his legs over his shoulders. He spit in his palm and stroked it onto his cock. He had enough mind to slowly and gingerly push into Lucien. 

“For fuck's sake, move,” Lucien demanded and rolled his hips back. 

Chevalier sniggered as he started thrusting at a quicker pace, gripping his hips. He pressed his face against Lucien’s neck and bit down on the pale, freckled skin to silence the moans slipping past his lips. Lucien practically fell apart—which he rarely did—in a whimpering mess, nearly coming on Chevalier’s cock alone. He covered his own mouth to stay quiet, not wanting to disturb the other occupants. As Chevalier neared his own climax, he brought a hand down to stroke Lucien’s cock. He came across his stomach with what would have been a loud moan if it weren’t for Chevalier slamming his lips against his. He pulled out just as he was about to cum so his seed added to the mess on Lucien’s stomach. He let Lucien’s legs fall as he collapsed next to him. 

“That was...wow,” Lucien panted, looking over to him with a fucked-out smile. 

Chevalier chuckled, “Is that right?” Lucien just responded with a languid kiss. When he went to get out of bed, Chevalier held his arm. “Can you stay? We can lock the door. It’s just been hard for me to sleep lately,” he asked, suddenly growing shy. 

“Of course, darlin’,” Lucien drawled with that charming smile. “Lemme jus lock the door and clean up.” He slipped out of bed and turned the lock on the door before grabbed his discarded undershirt to wipe his stomach clean. He laid back down with Chevalier in the twin bed, forcing them flush against each other. “Yer cute, Chevy,” he hummed as he admired his features in the blue light of the moon. 

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Chevalier teased, pressing another kiss to his lips. He tugged the thin cotton blanket up over them and tucked his head under his chin. It had been so long since he’d been intimate with someone, especially another man. It felt so good. He finally found himself relaxing as his eyelids fluttered shut. He felt safe in the arms of a near stranger. 

Chevalier woke up to Lucien’s breath tickling the back of his neck. It took him a moment to recall the events of the night prior. He smiled to himself despite the pang of betrayal in his heart. _Last night should have been with Philippe. Philippe should be holding him. Philippe should be kissing all of his worries away_. But he was with Lucien. Lucien was dashingly handsome with his bleached blonde hair and dark freckles peppering his pale skin. And so far, he seemed sweet and a little quirky with that thick accent and crooked teeth. He must’ve known Chevalier was awake as his breathing shifted from the slow, melodic ebb and flow to scattered and hasty. Lucien pressed soft kisses across the back of his neck and down his shoulder as his hand slid up and down the plane of Chevalier’s chest. 

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” Lucien murmured as he pressed a kiss behind his ear. “Sleep well?”

Chevalier shivered and pressed closer against him. “Mmhm. Better than I have in a while,” he hummed. They spent the morning lazily trading kisses as wandering hands ghosted across skin. “How’d you know I was queer?” he mumbled.

Lucien chuckled softly. “No ladies man reads Dorian Gray. And besides, when you’re in the army long enough, everyone is a little bit queer.” 

Chevalier laughed, “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

Their peaceful morning was interrupted by a banging on their door. “Come on boys! We’ve got work to do,” Fabien called.

Lucien groaned and rolled out of bed. “Be right out, Marchal!” He went to the chest at the end of his bed and pulled out a clean pair of clothes. 

“Got anything I can borrow? My uniform is all dirty,” Chevalier asked as he sat up in bed and yawned. 

Lucien smiled over at him, admiring how he looked with his bedhead in the soft morning light. He handed him a folded pair of jeans and a wife beater. “We can go into town today and get you some clothes,” he suggested. 

The two got dressed and walked out to meet with the rest of the men, already gathered around the dining room table. They were already discussing plans for raids and protests. Chevalier heard something of London, but the conversation hushed when Fabien saw him. 

“Perfect. Now we can start working,” Fabien exclaimed, clapping his hands together and standing up. 

Philippe at Chevalier quizzically as if he could tell something was off. He refused to look back at him. As far as he was concerned, Philippe planned on leaving him for London presumably. He was a fool to believe he actually cared about him. 

“Mind if I bring the two new ones into town? Get them clothes and show them the ropes,” Lucien spoke up from behind him. 

Fabien nodded curtly. “I suppose that’d be alright.”

Lucien’s hand rested on the small of Chevalier’s back where no one could see. It was a small gesture, but it made something bloom in his chest and redden his cheeks. He withdrew his hand once they began walking out. 

“The townspeople are really nice ‘round here. Everyone supports the Revolution. They give us food, clothes—hell, they all helped us build the cabin,” Lucien explained as he led the other two men into town. He kept stealing glances at Chevalier. How his eyes shimmered in the sunlight and how his fingers danced across the tall grass along the path and of course the way his ass fit in his jeans. He really liked this kid—he chuckled to himself at the thought of Chevalier’s reaction to calling him a kid—despite only knowing him for a day. 

Philippe was quiet but ever observant. He watched Lucien’s eyes travel up and down Chevalier and how their hands would brush against each other. He didn’t quite think anything of it. He understood why Lucien would be looking at Chevalier like that; he was gorgeous and lithe and that smile of his could light up the world. Philippe shook the thoughts away. He didn’t have time to bother himself with thoughts of that sort. He needed to focus on saving his country. The three of them trekked back to the cabin with bags full of their purchases. 

They spent the day conversing with other members of the Revolution and organizing ideas and plots. Lucien had kept in touch with his men from the British Air Force, granting them more information on the Allied position on the corrupted Vichy France. 

“Our allies are attacking us! How is that right?” Philippe exasperated, growing red with anger. 

“This isn’t France anymore. Yeah, there’s a French figurehead, but the Germans have taken control,” Fabien explained. 

“They are attacking our men!” Philippe yelled, slamming his fist on the table. 

Lucien scoffed, “Looks like we got a royalist on our hands.” Philippe glared at him with those cold, blue eyes, but that didn’t deter him from continuing, “Oh wait, I forgot. You must think you’re still king, Bourbon.” He sneered, leaning back and crossing his arms. 

“Why do you even care? You’re a Brit,” Philippe snapped. 

Before Lucien could defend himself, Chevalier countered, “This is his war too. How do you think he got here in the first place? He was shot down by Germans in our country and our government did nothing to stop them.”

Philippe just looked at him with his lips pressed into a hard line. “What do you know about—“

“I’m going to stop you right there!” Now Chevalier was yelling. “You think I’m some kid that doesn’t know shit. Just because I’m not some self-declared war hero like you doesn’t mean I’m less than you. You’re not my superior anymore. Out here, we’re equals.” At that, he stormed out of the cabin and walked out back to the tree line. He leaned against a tree and took deep breathes to calm down after his outburst. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow across the countryside. A hand on his shoulder startled him but the face that greeted him was comforting. 

“You alright there, Chevy?” Lucien asked softly, moving in front of him and sliding his hand to the back of his neck. 

Chevalier sighed, “Yeah, just snapped I guess.” 

Lucien crowded into his space and pressed his other hand against the bark next to his head. He softly kissed him and caressed the back of his neck. “You’re no kid. And you’re not an idiot,” he murmured. 

“You don’t even know me,” Chevalier huffed and looked down. 

“Maybe I haven’t known you for years, but I can tell. Hell, with the books you read, you must be smart,” Lucien chuckled softly, drawing a small smile from the other man. “Look at that smile. Don’t let that ass get you down.” He cupped his cheek in one hand, brushing his thumb across the bone. 

“Thanks,” Chevalier muttered and kissed him again. 

“I brought you something,” Lucien remember, fishing into his back pocket and retrieving a pocket edition of Shakespeare’s sonnets. “I found this while you were looking for clothes. Thought you’d like it.” 

Chevalier smiled widely as he took it in his hands. “Wow. Thank you, Lucien.” The gesture meant a lot to him. Lucien bought a gift. And it was thoughtful and personal. Philippe didn’t do that. 

“You know, some say his sonnets were about the Earl of Southampton,” Lucien purred as his pressed against him and kissed him more fervently. 

Chevalier absolutely melted against him. His worries were kissed away. He didn’t think about Philippe. He didn’t think about how the man he’d been pining over for the last year didn’t care about him. He just thought about Lucien and how good it felt to be wanted. 

Philippe immediately felt terrible for what he said. Lucien’s comment set him off and in his mind, Chevalier was still his subordinate. But he was right. They were equals now. He knew he should apologize, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He sat at the table, shaking his leg anxiously just waiting for Chevalier to come back and let him know that he didn’t completely ruin their friendship—if he could call it that. He was starting to grow worried because it’d been some time since Lucien went out to find Chevalier and it was almost dark.

Lucien definitely found him. After their tender discussion over Shakespeare’s sonnets, Lucien hoisted Chevalier’s legs up around his waist and fucked him against the tree. 

“Holy shit, that was good,” Chevalier panted with his arms and legs still tightly wrapped around Lucien. 

“I knew your ass looked good, but it feels even better,” Lucien chuckled, letting his legs fall from his waist so they could get dressed again. 

When the two walked back into the cabin all smiles and laughter, Philippe was quite confused and somewhat—jealous? He had no reason to be jealous. Chevalier was a friend—if that, more like an acquaintance—and he was allowed to have other friends. But he didn’t like Lucien at all. For one, he was British. Two, he didn’t appreciate being called a royalist one bit. He was probably out there convincing Chevalier to never speak to him. And the look Chevalier gave Philippe when he walked in just confirmed that theory. 

“Lorraine,” Philippe called as Chevalier was about to ascend up the stairs.

Chevalier paused and snipped, “What do you want, Bourbon?” Apparently, they weren’t on first name terms anymore. Never mind the fact that he had just comforted the man through a panic attack the day before.

Philippe sighed, “Nothing…I’m just sorry about what I said.”

Chevalier nodded wordlessly and disappeared up the stairs. 

Philippe had really done it. He made the one person that actually liked him run away. He figured it was about time anyway. It happened every other time without fail. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise Chevalier and Lucien aren't endgame. Monchevy will happen, but first we must suffer.


	4. All The Things I Don't Talk About

Philippe felt ostracized by the rest of the guys at the cabin. Chevalier spent nearly all of his free time with Lucien. All Fabien talked about was politics and they had very different ideas. Raphael and Victor were quiet. The only person that paid him any attention was Thomas. Thomas was a rodent of a man. He had long pointed nose and beady little brown eyes. He always had some smart comment to make, which were mostly aimed at Chevalier. But he and Philippe got along. They had similar political views and most of all, Thomas gave him attention. There were also parts of him that reminded him of Chevalier: namely his appreciation for the arts. Almost every time Thomas mention a novel Philippe added, “Chevalier told me about that.”

Thomas hated Chevalier. But the feeling was mutual. 

They had been there for a month. Chevalier and Lucien had grown inexplicably close in that short amount of time. They were “going steady” now. Chevalier wouldn’t admit it, but he was falling for him. Lucien was the first person in a long while to make him feel wanted and loved. He was able to forget about the war when he was snug in his arms. All Philippe ever did was remind him of his own mortality. 

Chevalier walked down from his room to the kitchen to grab his cigarettes from the counter when he heard soft sounds of laughter coming from the living room. He was curious, so he peaked his head in. 

“Everyone knows that they’re fucking,” Thomas chuckled. 

Philippe shook his head and scoffed, “What are you talking about? They’re friends.”

“They’re lovers,” Thomas enunciated. “I can hear them going at it almost every night.”

Chevalier flushed red when he realized they were talking about him and Lucien. He wasn’t ashamed necessarily, he was just wary. 

“Why him?” Philippe scowled. 

_Because he dotes over me and holds me and comforts me and he makes me feel wanted and loved. Unlike you. You just led me on and pushed me away. You hurt me, Philippe,_ Chevalier thought making tears well up in his eyes. 

“Probably just wants a good fuck,” Thomas huffed. Chevalier swore he heard him utter “whore” under his breath. 

Chevalier couldn’t listen anymore. He ran back upstairs to Lucien and burst into tears before he made it into his arms. “Do you think I’m a whore?” he stammered through his tears. 

Lucien furrowed his brows and tilted Chevalier’s chin up so he would look at him. “What are you talkin' about, baby? Of course not. Why would you think of such a thing?” Lucien cooed, petting his hair to calm him. 

“Philippe and Thomas were talking about us,” he explained, voice still shaking with tears. “They think I’m just some cheap whore.” He sobbed the last word as he buried his face in Lucien’s chest. He may have been over exaggerating, but he knew the two men didn’t think very highly of him. 

“Hey, Chevy. Relax. Who cares what they think? I got you,” Lucien assured, rubbing his back soothingly. “I like you. I really do.”

Chevalier sniffled and moved to settle in his lap. “I like you too,” he muttered. 

Lucien smiled softly and kissed him before settling down to bed with his lover. 

“Don’t talk about him like that, Thomas,” Philippe grumbled, trying to sound too defensive. 

Thomas just rolled his eyes and lit a smoke. “Anyways, are you gonna head to London or fight the revolution here?” 

Philippe sighed and ran a hand down his face, “I don’t know. This is my country. I can’t abandon it. I want to be an infighter. Infiltrate the corruption from within.”

“That’s so poetic of you,” Thomas remarked sarcastically. 

Philippe got up from the couch and walked out to the front porch. He ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. Too many thoughts rushed through his head. 

Thought number one was about his brother and what he would want him to do. But Louis hadn’t written him in months so he figured he mustn’t care anymore. He tried to rationalize what would inevitably be betraying his country. The Allies were moving to attack the French in North Africa, but the French were being dictated by Germans. But fighting with the other allies would mean fighting his own men.It was plain traitorous. He shouldn’t have joined this “revolution”. He should turn them all in, but he knew he couldn’t do that. All he could do was stay in France. The others could go to London without him.

Thought number two was Chevalier. Chevalier always plagued his mind. Ever since that day in the sewers, things had changed. There was a pang in his heart every time they locked eyes. He craved his touch and his lips. He wanted to feel how soft his hair really was. He wanted his arms wrapped around him like that day in the trunk. He wanted Chevalier. But he couldn’t have him. He knew he would only end up hurting him and he didn’t deserve that. Philippe didn’t love himself, so he surely couldn’t love anyone else. Maybe that’s why he had never been in love before. 

Philippe lit a cigarette and smoked out on the porch. He needed to be doing something. He needed to feel like he was making a difference in this godforsaken war. But he was just sitting. How could he live with himself just sitting while men were out there dying? _Men controlled by Nazis_ , he reminded himself. There was no right answer, he determined. People were going to die regardless of what he did. He didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. 

Chevalier jerked awake to the sound of a gunshot. Lucien was fast asleep against him, so he very slowly slipped out of bed. Before heading downstairs to investigate the sound, he pulled on Lucien’s sweater—his mum knitted it for him so it was nice and warm. He crept outside and walked out back to find Philippe aiming at a bottle on a stump. He let out a sigh of relief knowing there really wasn’t anything to be worried about. 

“What are you doing out here, Philippe?” Chevalier asked, shivering slightly in the cold of the night.

Philippe jumped and turned hastily, pointing his gun at him.“Shit, sorry. You startled me,” he muttered, lowering his gun. “I couldn’t stop my mind from racing so I decided to do some target practice.”

Chevalier nodded and shifted on his feet. “Yeah, I haven’t been sleeping well either. Lucien was gonna try to find a record player. Music helps me sleep.”

Philippe worried his lip between his teeth and looked around awkwardly. _I know music helps you sleep. I knew that before he did. You told me your mother used to sing to you. And then you sang to me_ , Philippe thought. “So…you and Lucien are pretty close it seems?” he said hesitantly.

Chevalier just nodded and rubbed his arms. “Yeah,” he hesitated. “Yeah, he’s nice.”

Philippe swallowed thickly and cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad you’ve found a friend amongst all of this. I bet it's nice to have a distraction. He turned and lifted his gun to aim at the bottle again.  
“Philippe, you are my friend. Well, I consider you a friend. I don’t know if you think the same, but I would like to think that we’re friends,” he prattled.

Philippe lowered his gun and turned to him with a soft, yet sad smile. “Yeah, Chevalier. We’re friends. Probably the only friend I have left on this Earth,” he sighed.

Chevalier furrowed his brows. “That can’t be true. You must have plenty of people waiting for you to get back.”

Philippe shook his head and huffed, “Nope. Just my brother and…well and my fiancé.”

Chevalier’s brows raised and his lips parted. He cocked his head in confusion. “You’ve never mentioned her before.”

“Yeah, well it’s complicated. I’d rather not get into it,” he murmured. “Go back to bed, Chevalier. I’m fine. Just need to clear my head.”

Chevalier nodded curtly and padded back inside. He laid back down with Lucien and kissed his forehead softly as not to wake him, but of course, Lucien blinked awake.

He smiled at the sight before him and ran his fingers through Chevalier’s mop of curls. “That sweater looks good on you,” he hummed, admiring how the sleeves were just a bit too long so they covered his hands and the hem of the sweater came just above his knee.

“Makes me feel safe. Smells like you,” Chevalier mused as he tucked back against Lucien and closed his eyes. It took a while for him to sleep; he couldn’t get the image of that sad look Philippe gave him out of his head. 

~-~-~-~

“Look what I found, boys!” Lucien cheered as he entered the cabin with a record player in his arms.

Chevalier smiled widely. “You found one! Did you get any records?” 

Philippe came in behind Lucien with a box of records. “Yep! This old woman so kindly gave us some of hers that belonged to her son.”

“Finally, we can listen to something besides bickering,” Fabien teased, already clearing a space on the counter for the record player. Lucien set it down and plugged it in while Chevalier sifted through the box of records.

Philippe tapped his shoulder, holding something behind his back. “Guess what I found?”

Chevalier turned to him and chuckled, “What?” Philippe pulled out a Lucienne Boyer album from behind his back. “No way! That’s my favorite. My mum bought me that album for my birthday one year. It has Parlez—“

“Parlez-moi d’amour on it. That’s how I recognized it,” Philippe smiled and handed it to him so he could put it on the player.

Lucien set it on the player and placed the needle on the vinyl as it started spinning. “You’ll have to translate this for me,” he chuckled as Boyer’s voice filled the house. 

Chevalier blushed softly as he hummed along. “We should dance. Come on, just let loose,” he suggested, already taking Lucien’s hands to drag him to the open space in the living room. “His gigolette, his gigolette,” he sang with a smile as he made Lucien spin him. 

“What is she saying?” Lucien laughed as everyone began to dance in the living room. Philippe was laughing with his head thrown back as Fabien dipped him. 

“Nothing beats true love,” Chevalier translated softly to Lucien with a coy smile.

Lucien smiled and picked him up to spin him in his arms. It took everything he had not to kiss him right there in front of everyone. Smiles were on everyone’s faces. Somehow the worry lines of war disappeared for the evening as the record player washed away the tension. Chevalier and Lucien stepped out to the porch while the others were still inside. Victor put on Rina Ketty and the sounds of J’Attendrai drifted out to them. Lucien snaked his arm around Chevalier’s waist and took his other hand in his and began swaying with him

“What’s she singin' about?” Lucien asked as they slow danced on the porch. 

“She’s waiting for her lover to return from war,” Chevalier hummed, resting his head on his shoulder. He sang the lyrics in English. “Time passes and flies by, beating sadly in my heavy heart, even so, I will await your return.”

Lucien looked down at him with a soft smile and kissed him chastely. Philippe just so happened to look out the window when he saw their lips meet. He wanted to be mad at first, but he knew that wasn’t fair. He’d strung Chevalier along, yet never made any notion to show that he wanted more. And he couldn’t be mad when Chevalier smiled so brightly that he could challenge Apollo. He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away to let the lovers have their privacy. As far as he could tell, Lucien was good to Chevalier and he made him happy: that was all that mattered. He walked back to the living room and grabbed the sketchbook he’d bought while they were out. Picking up a pen, he began to draw the image of Chevalier and Lucien dancing together. It’d been some time since he’d drawn, but as the ink flowed his mind was put at ease.

Thomas sat next to him and peeked over at the paper. “What’re you drawing?”

“A pair of lovers,” he answered softly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really having so much fun writing this. I'm trying my best to be somewhat historically accurate, but there's no shame in artistic license.  
> The songs referenced:  
> Gigolette- https://youtu.be/hopKsgiuMQ4  
> J'Attendrai- https://youtu.be/q5xSG46gslI


	5. You Love Me So Hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry for the slow update. I have a lot going on, but I have so many ideas!

“I love you,” Lucien uttered. 

They’d been together for nearly six months and they had been lucky enough to avoid physical fighting in the revolution. Philippe and the rest of the men had gone out a few times to aid the fight against the Germans, but he and Lucien stuck to the intellectual revolution. The walls of their room were covered in poster designs and notes and quotes and letters. It looks more like the wall of a detective. And as they lay on the ground, staring up at their work, Chevalier mentioned how long they had been together and Lucien declared his love. 

“I love you, Chevalier,” he repeated, looking over to him for his response. Chevalier’s heart stopped and he parted his lips to speak, but no words came out. Lucien’s expression dropped and he seemed to shrink in on himself. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that—“

“I love you, too!” Chevalier finally managed to get out. He sat up and folded his legs, pulling Lucien up with him and holding his hands. “Well, I think I love you. I’ve never really been in love. I don’t know what it’s like,” he rambled. 

That crooked smile of his grew back on his face. “Well, does your heart faster when we touch? Do things seem brighter when I walk in the room? Do your lips crave mine? Have your fingers began to memorize every curve of my body? Do you want me to never leave you?”

Chevalier flushed pink and bit his lip as he smiled. “Yeah. Yes to everything,” he chortled. 

“Then, my dear,” he began, cupping Chevalier’s face in his hands, “I think you’re in love.” They both leaned in for a kiss resulting in clacking teeth and smashed noses. They laughed and blushed like it was their first kiss. 

“I love you, Lucien,” he said with confidence this time. 

Philippe paced back and forth on the porch, chewing his nails as he tried to make a decision. Chevalier was going to London with Lucien in only a few weeks. Philippe had yet to mention that he was staying in France. He knew he had to stay in his country, but he didn’t want to lose Chevalier. He still valued his friendship with him and he didn’t want to lose him just like that. Philippe would never say it out loud, but surely one of them were to die before the end of the war. There were so many things he had left to say to him, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t say those things to him while he was still with Lucien. He wouldn’t jeopardize their relationship like that. Chevalier deserved to be happy; he was happy. Philippe wasn’t about to take that away from him for his own selfish desires. If they both made it through the war, then maybe he’d admit his feelings to Chevalier. 

~-~-~-~

Philippe walked into town one morning while the guys fiddled about, planning their escape plans. He went to the little shop where they had bought the record player in search of a camera. He found a used Argus C3 tucked away on the bottom shelf. 

“How much is this?” He asked the old woman who ran the shop. 

“No charge, darling,” she smiled kindly. 

Philippe furrowed his brows. “I can’t just take it. Please, allow me to pay.”

“You boys have visited me so much. Remind me of my own son. That was his, actually. I’m not taking your money,” she insisted. 

Philippe smiled sadly. “Thank you, miss. You have a nice day,” he said before leaving. He delicately ran his fingers across the camera as he made the walk back to the cabin. He walked up the rickety porch steps as he entered. He thought no one was home until Chevalier came padding down the steps.

“Oh hey, Philippe. What do you have there?” Chevalier asked with a yawn. He was wearing only a pair of worn out jeans that hung low on his hips. Absolutely gorgeous.

Philippe caught himself staring and quickly shook his head. “It’s a camera. I got it for you, actually.”

Chevalier cocked his head and smiled. “That’s sweet of you. What’s the occasion?”

Philippe chewed his lip and shifted on his feet as he decided to tell him. “I’m not going to London. I’m staying here,” he sighed. “I got you the camera so you can send me pictures. I don’t want to forget you—any of you.”

Chevalier was silent for a moment and Philippe feared he may have overstepped his bounds. “Philippe…” he whispered, not sure what to say. “Why? Why aren’t you coming with us?”

“I need to defend my country. I’ll fight the Revolution from within,” he explained.

Chevalier didn’t respond again, instead, he just pulled Philippe into a hug. “Thank you—for everything,” he muttered. “You’ve been my only friend for nearly two years.”

Philippe smiled sadly and sniffled, “I know. That’s why I don’t want to forget you. We can write to each other. And don’t forget, when this war is over, we’re getting drinks.”

Chevalier stepped back and smiled. “Right, of course. Well, I think you should start taking pictures now.” He posed dramatically for the camera and laughed with his mouth open wide and head tossed back. Philippe immediately captured the image, never wanting to forget the way he looked. He snapped a view more pictures of Chevalier before he took the camera from him. “Come on, Philippe! Relax,” he laughed as Philippe stiffly posed. 

“I don’t know how!” Philippe laughed and finally smiled for real, all the worry and frown lines from his face disappeared. Chevalier immediately snapped the picture and smiled widely. 

“You’re so cute,” Chevalier giggled. “We need to develop these before we leave.” His smile faltered slightly at the thought. 

Philippe frowned and cocked his head. “Are you alright?” He asked softly. 

Chevalier nodded and looked down. “Yeah. I’m just gonna miss you I guess,” he muttered and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I promise we’ll see each other again. You will survive and so will I,” Philippe assured even though there was no way he could know that. He just wanted to make Chevalier smile and erase the worry. He would rather have him just completely forget about him. He wanted him to be happy with Lucien or with anyone else he met along the way. He wanted to be a mere blip in his life that he didn’t even remember his name. 

~-~-~-~

Lucien snuck up behind Chevalier as he stood in the shed that he’d repurposed into a dark room. He grabbed his partner's hips and attacked his neck with kisses. Chevalier yelped and jumped in Lucien’s arms. “You scared the life out of me!” He laughed. 

Lucien chuckled and rested his chin on his shoulder to look at the photos he was developing. “You’re so cute,” he hummed as he admired the pictures of Chevalier. 

“I am not cute! If anything, I’m alluring, ethereal,” Chevalier teased as he tilted his head to the side to bare his neck. 

Lucien laughed, “Shut up. You’re the cutest little shit I’ve ever met.” He kissed up and down his neck, nipping lightly. “I came here to bring you inside. Have some pictures I need you to take.”

“Mm, and what did you have in mind?” Chevalier hummed as he rocked back against him. 

“Just some tasteful nude portraits,” Lucien said studiously. 

As soon as they made it to their room, they were tugging at each other’s clothes. Lucien stepped away to grab the camera as Chevalier laid out on the bed. He seemed to naturally contort his body as he alluringly gazed at the camera. 

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Lucien groaned. He set the camera down and crawled on top of him, immediately ravishingly his lips with kisses. He kissed down Chevalier’s neck, nipping and sucking hickeys along the way. He rubbed his thumbs over his dusky pink nipples as they hardened with arousal. 

Chevalier moaned softly and bucked his hips up, “Hurry up. Can’t wait anymore.” He threaded his fingers in Lucien’s hair and tugged lightly to bring his lips back to his mouth as he rolled his hips up against his. 

“Patience,” Lucien shushed him. “Let me take my time with you.” He kissed further down his chest before swirling his tongue around one nipple while pinching the other between his fingers. He nipped and tugged at one until Chevalier was squirming and moaning beneath him. He moved his mouth to the other nipple, already red and hard from his fingers. He kissed further down his stomach and gently rubbed his abused nipples. He kissed down to the trail of soft hair leading to his cock that was hard and rested against his stomach. Chevalier whined for more and continued rocking his hips up, hoping Lucien would give him some release. “I ought to tie you up to keep you still,” Lucien chuckled, his breath ghosting across Chevalier’s erection. “Roll over.” Chevalier followed the order laid flat on his stomach until Lucien pulled his hips up and spread his legs. Lucien gripped his ass cheeks and spread them apart so he could get to that tight ring of muscle. He licked a long stripe across his hole with the flat of his tongue.

“Oh fuck!” Chevalier yelped. “What are you doing?” He pushed his hips back for more of the new sensation. Lucien only responded my circling the tip of his tongue are the ring of muscle. He continued lapping at his hole before slowly pushing his tongue in. Chevalier moaned and pushed his hips against his tongue. His thighs shook from the new sensation. It felt so dirty, yet incredibly intimate. Lucien continued to fuck him with his tongue until his hole was wet and sufficiently stretched. He sat back up on heels and rubbed a hand down Chevalier’s back. “That felt so good,” he mewled. “Need more.”

“You’re so gorgeous, Chevy,” Lucien murmured as he kissed along his spine. “I love you so much, baby.” He slowly pushed his cock into his loose, wet hole with a soft groan. 

Chevalier moaned softly, “I love you too. More than anything.” He was in ecstasy and his mind was swimming in pleasure as Lucien pushed further in. He began thrusting slowly and deliberately as he shifted his angle to hit his prostate. He blanketed his body over Chevalier’s and turned his head to kiss him as he fucked him. 

“Love you so much. You’re my everything,” Lucien murmured against his lips. He was tender with his movements as they rocked together. 

Chevalier’s whole body shuddered not only from the pleasure but from the intense passion. “Feels so good, Lucien. Never leave me. Need you,” he babbled. 

“You got me. I’m right here,” Lucien assured as he snapped his hips. They murmured declarations of passion over and over until they both teetered on the edge of climax. “Come on, baby. Come for me,” Lucien moaned as he stroked Chevalier’s cock. Chevalier came with a shout and clenched around Lucien, finally pushing him over the edge. He rode out his high before pulling out and laying next to him. Chevalier rolled onto his side and looked over at Lucien with tears in his eyes. “Hey, hey, why are you crying?” he asked worriedly, immediately pulling him close. 

“I’m scared,” Chevalier sniffled as he held onto Lucien tightly. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me, Chevy. We’re gonna be okay. I’m gonna keep you safe,” he assured although he really couldn’t promise that. Of course, he was terrified, too. Going to London meant going back to fighting. 

~-~-~-~

Philippe sat at the kitchen table while Victor, Raphael, Lucien, and Chevalier descended the stairs with their packed bags. Fabien helped them load their bags into the trunk. Philippe couldn’t move and he couldn’t bear to say goodbye.

While everyone was outside preparing to leave, Chevalier walked inside to Philippe. “Hey…I almost forget to give you these,” he muttered gesturing to the photos in his hand.

Philippe looked up at him with a sad smile. “Thanks,” he sighed. “I just want to apologize for treating you like you were lesser than me. You’re the only person to ever be there for me. I wish we had more time to get to know each other.” He finally looked up to lock eyes with Chevalier. 

Chevalier sat down next to him and put his hand over his. “We’ll have more time. You promised me drinks, remember,” he smiled softly. 

Philippe huffed out a laugh and nodded. “Right. Don’t let me forget that.” He turned his hand over so he could hold Chevalier’s. He rubbed his thumb over his and just sighed. 

“I’m going to miss you, Philippe,” Chevalier whispered. They just looked at each other for a moment. Philippe swallowed down his anxiety before cupping Chevalier’s face in his hands. He leaned forward and kissed his forehead delicately, brushing his thumbs across his cheekbones. Chevalier leaned closer and brushed his lips against Philippe’s. 

“Goodbye, Lorraine.”

“Goodbye, Bourbon.”


	6. 'Cause You're The One I Got

Lucien hadn’t been in a plane since he was shot down in France over a year ago. He hadn’t realized how terrified he had grown of aircrafts until they were taking off. His body seized up and felt his chest constrict as he gasped for air. 

“I need to get out of here. I can’t be here,” Lucien stammered as he gripped onto the lapels of Chevalier’s jacket. His face was devoid of all color and his eyes were wide with panic. 

Chevalier placed his hands over Lucien’s and locked eyes with him. “Look at me, Luce. I’m right here. You’re safe. We’ll be there soon,” he cooed and kissed his forehead.

Chevalier held his lover tightly until the plane finally landed on the outskirts of London. The atmosphere of the city was heavy and depressing. Chevalier felt as though he almost couldn’t breathe. Lucien didn’t seem to be very grateful to be home. His skin seemed grey beneath the haze of the thick clouds as the sun struggled to poke through. They were guided towards agroup of other soldiers that were arriving from various other countries and ushered into the city. London was in shambles. Buildings were completely destroyed, civilians cowered on in the streets at the sight of the men in uniforms. The metros were shut down. Nobody had anything. Anything left in the city was being sent to the troops. They walked past a group of school children with gas masks pulled over their faces. This was a dystopia.

They were led to a hospital that had been bombed. The upper levels had crumbled, but the basement was somewhat safe to take shelter in. Cots lined half of the space, while the other side was dedicated for injured soldiers. Supplies were piled up and guarded to ensure no one smuggled anything out. The new arrivals were given a gun and ammo,a small number of rations, and a number. Lucien and Chevalier walked through the rows of cots to find a pair next to each other. They sat down across from each other, Lucien just staring blankly at the floor. Chevalier reached a hand out and placed it on Lucien’s knee, but quickly removed it when it drew the attention of another soldier. Chevalier curled up in his cot and tried to ignore the tightness in his chest. Reality finally set in as injured soldiers were carried in, screaming in pain. They were back in the middle of the war. They were going right into the belly of the beast. 

Chevalier couldn’t sleep at all that night. At least every hour a bomb shook the ground. The sound made him panic. He didn’t want to be there. He wanted to run away with Lucien and never think about the war again. Lucien reached across the space between their cots and grabbed Chevalier’s hand once he sensed his panic. He smoothed his thumb over his pulse point in small circles to comfort him although would have much preferred to hold him. 

“I love you, Chevalier,” Lucien whispered so no one else would hear. 

Chevalier blinked his tears away and took a deep breath. “I’m scared, Luce,” he murmured. “I’m scared I’m gonna lose you.”

Lucien smiled sadly. “You’re not gonna lose me, baby,” he assured. 

~-~-~

Philippe rode back into Paris and reconvened with the group of rebels. They were shacked up in some empty tenements that were in no condition for anyone to live comfortably in. Philippe became an amazing actor. He played a faithful supporter of Vichy France. He played a German. He played a passionate rebel. But he felt nothing. All he felt was emptiness. 

He laid in his cot, looking up at the stars through the holes in the roof. The smoke in the air stung his eyes making a tear slide down his temple, cleaning the dirt from his face. After hours of tossing and turning, he rummaged through his bag and grabbed the photos Chevalier gifted him before he left. He hadn’t looked at them yet, figuring it’d be too hard and it’d make him only miss him more. He held the small stack of paper in his hands, running the pads of his fingers along the edges. The first picture was of Chevalier posing dramatically in the kitchen; Philippe took this photo when he first bought the camera. The other was one of Fabien and Philippe dancing. And there were a few more of the other guys and Chevalier’s gorgeous smile. And then there was a picture of Chevalier sitting in Lucien’s lap on the steps of the porch. Philippe took that one without them knowing. They both just looked so tired but Chevalier had some light about him. He thumbed at the corner of the picture and realized another one was stuck to the back. He carefully pulled them apart before looking at the hidden image. He blinked a few times to make sure the smoke hadn’t caused him to hallucinate. Lucien must have taken the photo. Chevalier was stretched out on the bed, the sheets a mess, with his legs spread—completely naked. A shy smile played on his lips as he tried to hide his face in his arm as his spent cock rested against his thigh, come marking his stomach. He was absolutely gorgeous. Philippe couldn’t stop staring at the picture. Chevalier probably didn’t intend to give this to him. He knew he shouldn’t be enjoying it, but his cock was already peeking up and he couldn’t fall asleep with a pesky pecker. He slid his hand beneath the thin cotton of his boxers and gripped his hardening member. His eyes never left that image of Chevalier as he began stroking himself slowly. He imagined being the one with him and touching him and kissing him and fucking him. Philippe’s lips parted as he moved his fist furiously. 

“Chevalier,” Philippe moaned over and over again. He chanted his name as heat pooled in his belly. He came to that image of his former officer. He wiped the spunk from his hand onto the blanket and sighed. Guilt suddenly filled him as he buried the picture back in his bag. It was stupid for him to think about Chevalier like that when he knew they’d never see each other again. It would only cause more heartache and regret. He curled back in bed not caring about the mess left in his boxers. “Goodnight, Chevalier,” he murmured.

~-~-~-~

“You’re making it worse!” Chevalier hissed as he flinched away from the alcohol Lucien was dabbing on the wound on his shoulder. 

“You’re lucky the bullet only grazed you. It’d hurt a lot more to have a bullet go straight through you,” Lucien chided.

Chevalier huffed and closed his eyes as he let Lucien continue cleaning the wound. He had ducked behind a pillar just in time to escape getting shot in the chest, but the bullet still managed to graze his the spot where his neck met his shoulder. Although the wound wasn’t serious, he was absolutely terrified. He had been a millimeter away from death. “Luce, you know I love you, right?” he whispered.

Lucien smiled softly and brushed his thumb across the apple of Chevalier’s cheek. “Of course I do. And I love you even more,” he hummed. “We’re gonna be okay, Chevy. We’ll make it out of here together.”

Chevalier nodded and leaned his forehead against Lucien’s. Other men were around so they couldn’t kiss, so he had become accustomed to just nudging his nose against his. They would be okay—he had to remember that in order to survive.

They did survive. The Casablanca Conference in January gave them hope that the war would be coming to an end soon. The Trident Conference put the end on hold. It also brought about rumors of an Allied invasion of France in the near future. By December the troops had gotten news of the Tehran Conference. It had been decided that the Allies would invade France the following summer. This was supposed to mean the end of the war; the end of their suffering; finally getting drinks with Philippe.

Whereas this news came as a relief to Chevalier, it caused Philippe immense amounts of anxiety. The revolutionaries needed to be extra cautious or they would surely be captured and tortured by the Germans. They moved west of Paris to Normandy once they’d been informed of the plan to invade. Philippe couldn’t help but still feel guilty for essentially fighting against his own country, but he had to remind himself that it wasn’t the France he knew anymore. The revolutionaries camped out in the desolated towns along the coast as German forces began lining the beaches to prepare for the oncoming attack. 

Chevalier and Lucien were crowded onto a ship with hundreds of other men. They were given thick ponchos and an extra ration of ammunition before being sent off to France. The channel was choppy as they embarked on the fifteen-hour ride. Chevalier hunkered down in a corner with Lucien and held onto him tightly. The rough sea made half of the men sea-sick, leaning over the edge to vomit the little nutrients they had left in their frail bodies. The sun beat down on their hunched shoulders. The splashing of the waves didn’t do much to cool them down. Everything seemed to be against them. Chevalier’s eyelids felt heavy as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Lucien kept talking softly to him to keep him awake and grounded. A whistling sound brought him back to attention. 

“We’re here,” Lucien murmured. The men began taking hold of their guns and preparing to stand. Other ships had already landed on the shore and the Germans began firing. Suddenly the ship jolted to a stop as they hit the shore. Lucien grabbed Chevalier’s face and kissed him. “I love you so much. We’re gonna make it through this,” he murmured. 

“I love you too,” Chevalier stammered and kissed him one more time. And then there were screams and everyone was jumping out of the boat and charging the beach. Chevalier and Lucien followed suit, stumbling through the shallow end as water filled their boots. Men stormed the beach. They were the second group to arrive at Normandy and the Germans were so close to breaking, but that didn’t mean the fight was any less perilous. Chevalier watched as men collapsed on either side of him. He had lost sight of Lucien. He ducked behind a dune and fire relentlessly at the crumbling line of defense. His body ached, his ears rang, and his vision spotted as the fight dragged on. But then it was silent. He wasn’t sure if the fighting had stopped or the shell shock had finally gotten to him. He lowered his gun and peaked his head out above the dune. Bodies covered the beach. The tide turned red. Above the sounds of the sea were the sounds of injured soldiers. Chevalier scrambled to his feet and immediately began looking for Lucien. He screamed his name over and over again but got no response. He ran further up the beach, the resistance of the sand making it harder to make it over the dunes. He tripped and slipped down the dune, landing next to a corpse. His eyes went wide and his breathing stopped as he looked at the dead soldier just mere millimeters away from his face. That’s when he recognized the grey eyes; the bleached blonde hair; the light dusting of freckles.

“Lucien!” Chevalier screamed as he dripped the dead man’s shoulders. “No! Lucien come on! Come on, baby. Please. Don’t be dead. You can’t be dead!” He held his dead lover to his chest as he sobbed. He screamed until his throat bled. He cried silently and as he rocked with Lucien in his arms. He stayed there, willing for this to be a nightmare. He prayed for the first time in his entire life, but there was nothing any god could do. Suddenly Chevalier was being pulled away and someone else was dragging Lucien’s body. “Get your hands off of him! Let me go!” he screamed and kicked, trying to get out of the grasp, but he was too weak.

“He’s dead, boy. We have to move on,” the man grunted as he pulled Chevalier along. He couldn’t fight back. He couldn’t do anything.

~-~-~-~

France was taken back from the Germans by the end of August. While the Allied forces prepared to attack Germany, the men decided to celebrate their victory. Philippe and his group of revolutionaries crowded into a pub in Paris. He had a few drinks and tried to be happy for the victory, but he couldn’t feel anything. They’d won back their country, but at what costs? Thousands of young men were dead and there was still more fighting to do. He sat at the bar and stared into the mug of amber liquid and willed the world around him to disappear.

Chevalier sat on the bank of the Seine and stared at the reflection of the moonlight as it danced across the ripples in the water. He peeled off his uniform and slowly stepped into the water. The cool water engulfed him and protected him from the summer heat. He closed his eyes and tried to forget Lucien. He needed to forget him or he would never move on. He pinched his nose and dunked his head under, holding his breath for as long as he could. Part of him didn’t want to come back up, but the other part of him remembered Philippe. It was stupid of him to live for someone that he didn’t even know was alive, but it’s the reason he came back up to the surface. 

Philippe walked along the Seine and admired the city he loved. It wasn’t the same, but it was theirs again. As he watched the water he spotted a figure stepping out of the river and climbing back onto the bank.

“Chevalier,” Philippe blurted. 

Chevalier looked up and smiled sadly. “Philippe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want you all to know that it hurt so much to kill Lucien but it had to be done. All in the name of monchevy


	7. You Know Me Better Than I Do

Philippe jumped over the barrier and ran down the bank to Chevalier. He wanted to hug him close and tell him glad he was to see he was alive. Instead he found himself standing breathlessly in front of him as Chevalier stood dripping wet in only his boxers. Chevalier opened his mouth to speak, but his chest tightened and throat constricted. 

“Where’s Lucien?” Philippe asked with furrowed brows. 

That was all it took for Chevalier to absolutely break down. “He’s dead,” he choked out as his eyes began to sting with tears. His knees soon gave out as he tripped up the bank. Philippe caught him and instinctively held him close as he began sobbing. 

“I’m so sorry, Chevalier,” Philippe murmured in utter disbelief. The war was real before, but now it hurt even more. Someone he knew—someone that was loved was dead. A young man was gone and his name would just be added to a list of many others. Philippe squeezed him tighter and pressed his lips to the top of his head. “You made it though. You’ll be okay,” he whispered.

“I loved him. I loved him so much,” Chevalier sobbed. “And I didn’t even get to say goodbye. He was already dead.” He shook violently with each heaving cry. 

“Come on, let’s get you dressed and somewhere to sleep. You need rest,” Philippe spoke softly. He collected Chevalier’s discarded clothes and helped him dress since his fingers were too shaky button his shirt. Philippe coaxed him up the bank and back onto the street. He guided him away from the bars and the barracks to a hotel. “Stay here with me tonight. You shouldn’t be alone.”

Chevalier wiped the tears from his red cheeks and sniffled. He didn’t want to be alone. He couldn’t be alone. So he nodded and followed Philippe up the creaky steps to a small room.

“All of the double beds were booked. I can sleep in the chair though,” Philippe offered as he gestured for Chevalier to take the bed. They undressed down to their boxers and Philippe felt guilty as his eye’s raked over the other man’s body. He was skinnier than when they had last seen each other but his muscles looked firmer. He shook his head and curled up in the chair, his long limbs dangling over the arms. Chevalier curled up in the bed and hugged a pillow close to his chest. He closed his eyes but all he saw was Lucien. He stared blankly at the crackled yellow wallpaper and the curtains heavy with dust that blocked the view of the city. After an hour of failing to sleep, he sat up against the headboard and pulled his knees close to his chest. He watched Philippe as he slept almost peacefully save for the lines of worry permanently wrinkled into his forehead. 

“Philippe,” he called softly, his voice cracking from disuse. 

Philippe stirred and peaked his eyes open. “Is something wrong?” he mumbled with a yawn. He sat up and cracked his neck with a groan, stretching his limbs out of their crumpled up position.

“Can you lay with me?” Chevalier asked meekly. “I can’t sleep. I guess I just got used to sleeping with someone beside me.” 

Philippe paused for a moment as he processed the request. It was an innocent plea from a friend in need of being comforted. He couldn’t let his own desires come between their friendship, especially when Chevalier needed it most. “Sure, if it will make you feel better,” he conceded, getting up from the chair and moving to the other side of the bed. He laid down, making sure to leave space between them. 

Chevalier rolled onto his side to face Philippe. He looked down at the space between them before closing his eyes. A moment later he was opening his eyes again and looking up at Philippe. “C-can you hold me?” he murmured. 

Philippe paused again and searched Chevalier’s eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Sorry…I know it’s weird. You don’t have to,” he murmured and curled in on himself. 

“No, no. It’s okay. Um, just roll over,” Philippe said. He pressed against Chevalier’s back and wrapped his arms around his torso. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah…thank you,” he whispered. He put his hand over Philippe’s where it rested on his stomach. The pressure on his back kept him grounded and Philippe’s warmth lulled him to sleep. His breathing steadied as he finally fell asleep.

Philippe rested his head over Chevalier’s shoulder and tucked his face against his neck. Once he was sure the other man was asleep, he pressed a chaste kiss to his neck and licked the salty taste from his lips. There was so much wasted time—so many missed opportunities. Philippe wanted him; he needed him. He knew that Chevalier needed time to heal, but he didn’t want to risk waiting too long and losing him. But for the moment he just laid with him and held him tightly letting his fingers wander the plane of his torso. 

Chevalier woke up that morning after the first real sleep he’d had in months. He put his hand over the palm splayed on his stomach. It took him a moment to remember that it was Philippe. His stomach fluttered and he stiffened slightly, but Philippe was still asleep. He took a deep breath and ran his fingers across Philippe’s arm, just craving the touch. As he shifted against Philippe he realized the feeling against his ass. Philippe was hard and pressed right against his crack. Sure, he knew it was just biology. Everyone got morning wood. Hell, he was hard too. But he could feel every detail of Philippe’s cock and it only turned him on. He slowly began rocking his hips back and forth, pressing his cock further between his ass cheeks. He gripped Philippe’s hand as he moaned softly. Guilt bloomed low in his stomach but he was starved for touch. Desperate to feel loved again. Philippe woke up to the soft moans and growing pleasure around his groin. 

“What’re you doing?” Philippe groaned as he woke. Chevalier stilled and swallowed thickly as his cheeks flushed red. Philippe looked down between them and suddenly realized how intimately close they were. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he stammered went to pull back. 

Chevalier grabbed Philippe’s hand to keep him close. “Please stay. I’m sorry. I need it,” he rambled as he looked back at him. 

Philippe looked him in the eyes and paused. “Are you sure?” He asked softly.

Chevalier nodded and looked at him pleadingly as he slowly rolled his hips back again making Philippe gasp softly. He moved his hand up to turn Chevalier’s face towards him to capture his lips in a languid kiss. It felt right; they should have done this a long time ago. Philippe’s free hand continued to roam his torso, thumb brushing over his nipple and lightly tugging the peaked buds between his fingers. His hand slowly descended south until he reached the elastic band of his boxers. “Is this okay?” Philippe murmured against his lips as his fingers danced along the hem, playing with the soft tufts of golden hairs below his navel. 

Chevalier turned so they were facing each other now. “I’ll tell you if I want you to stop,” he assured. He kissed him softly as he took Philippe’s hand and guided it down further to grip his cock. Philippe felt confident enough now to take control and swiftly moved on top of him. He tugged both of their boxers off and pressed flush against him. He kissed him with more fervor this time and trailed open-mouth kisses down his neck.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you,” Philippe moaned softly as their erections slid together.

“You have me now,” Chevalier gasped softly. “Come on, please fuck me.” He bucked his hips up and spread his legs further. Philippe slipped a hand around Chevalier’s thigh and pulled it up over his shoulder. He unceremoniously spat on his fingers and dragged the spit-slicked digits down Chevalier’s balls and down to his hole. He pressed the tip of his index finger past the tight ring of muscle earning a pleased moan from the other.

“Have you done this before?” Chevalier moaned softly as Philippe dragged his finger in and out slowly against his walls. 

“Given and received,” Philippe answered as he pushed his middle finger in alongside the other. “Everyone gets lonely on the front.” Chevalier fucked himself back on Philippe’s fingers, his moans growing more wanton. Philippe scissored his fingers and briefly added a third to make sure his hole was thoroughly prepped before withdrawing them. He spat in his palm and stroked his cock before slowly pushing against his hole.

“Give it to me, Philippe. Come on. I need it,” Chevalier whined. Philippe pulled his other leg up over his shoulder and slowly pushed all the way in. “Fuck,” he panted. “Always wondered how your cock would feel.”

Philippe smiled down at him as he began to slowly fuck him. He bent his head down to kiss him again so they were connected in every way. Chevalier was nearly bent in half as Philippe leaned over him as he added more force. He tangled his fingers in the brunette curls as he held him in a bruising kiss. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes as his prostate was rammed.“Make me forget,” Chevalier choked out as tears streaked down his cheeks. Philippe was too far gone in ecstasy: his eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back as he chased his climax. 

“So close. Can I come in you?” Philippe grunted as his thrusts became more sporadic. 

Chevalier stroked himself fervently. “Yes please,” he cried. He chanted Philippe’s name over and over until his chest was splatted with his come and hole clenching around Philippe’s cock. He mewled and arched his back as Philippe’s cock pulsed in him as he coated his walls with his seed. Philippe fucked him through his orgasm as Chevalier’s legs dropped from his shoulders. He slowly pulled out and collapsed onto his chest with a groan. Chevalier wiped his eyes and caught his breath as he looked down at Philippe. “Thank you,” he panted.

Philippe looked up him and cupped his cheek in his hand, swiping his thumb across his cheekbone. “Are you okay, Chevalier?” he asked softly.

Chevalier sniffled and smiled sadly. “No,” he chuckled dryly. “No, I’m not okay. Don’t think I ever will be.” He looked up at the ceiling blankly. 

Philippe sat up and leaned over Chevalier to capture his gaze as he hovered over him. “Don’t feel guilty for anything, Chevalier,” he said softly. “You were thrust into this war with no other choice. Don’t do more harm to yourself by dreading on it. We’re young. We have a life ahead of us after all of this. It’s okay to move on.” He placed a kiss to his forehead and combed his fingers through his hair. 

Chevalier nodded and looked down. “Yeah…you’re right,” he murmured.

Philippe looked over to the window as the light fluttered in through the curtains. He got off the bed and walked over to the window. He parted the curtains and open the glass pane to let a soft breeze in. The sky was bluer than it has been since the war started. The air seemed to have some lightness about it. “It’s nice out today. We should go out,” Philippe suggested. 

Chevalier rolled out of bed and wiped his stomach clean with the sheets. He moved next to Philippe to look out of the window. “It is nice,” he observed flatly. 

Philippe stood behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. “We could go out for a drink as I promised,” he hummed.

“But the war isn’t over,” Chevalier sighed as he leaned back against him. 

“France has been liberated. It’s only a matter of time before it is. The fighting is done here,” Philippe assured as he smoothed his hands up and down his hips. 

Chevalier nodded and turned around in Philippe’s arms. He looked up into his green eyes for comfort and reassurance. “Okay…” he nodded. 

They walked along the Seine in the summer heat, eased by a pleasant breeze. They bought new clothes which they immediately changed into. Chevalier stood with his uniform bundled in his arms as he watched the water. Without another thought, he chucked the clothes into the river with a shout. Philippe watched on as Chevalier’s rage was castaway. He put his arm around his shoulders and kissed his temple. They walked away to a small pub that was mostly empty considering it was only a quarter after two. Chevalier stared at the two mugs of amber liquid on the knotted wood table between them: finally.

Philippe lifted the glass with a smile. “Cheers.”

Chevalier lifted his glass and clinked it against Philippe’s. “Cheers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait! Life is a lot. But look! Finally got monchevy!

**Author's Note:**

> I obviously am not exactly sure how war works, but I have a small grasp on European history so the timeline is sort of accurate


End file.
